


Similar But Dissimilar Grooves

by ascoolsuchasi



Category: Atonement (2007), Becoming Jane (2007), Murder In Mind (2001), Penelope (2006), ShakespeRe-Told (2005), Wanted (2008), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Gen, WIP, X-Men First Class Kink Meme, X-Men: First Class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascoolsuchasi/pseuds/ascoolsuchasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charles has dissociative identity disorder (multipersonality disorder).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/4418.html?thread=6809154#t6809154, in which a nonnie wanted Charles to have dissociative identity disorder (multipersonality disorder). Ze wanted crack, fortunately, or unfortunately, I provided angst. Warnings will be given per individual chapters.
> 
> No warnings. Sorry it's so short.

_Present Time_

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about, Char-" Stops halfway through, remembering that he may still be out of it, may not be himself. "I thought we had this under control...Are you taking you're medication? Doing you're exercises?"

A small look of confusion then a flicker.

"Jennifer," A smile in his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Exercises? Like cardio?"

Something breaks in Raven. They had it under control. He hadn't had an episode in months. It had almost been a year. But now...

She didn't want to go through this again. Constantly guessing and always missing.

She didn't want to have to explain over again. Too painful, when having to relive it.

Then there was a hand on her shoulder.

"Jen...Are you okay?" Concern spreads across his face. "You look like you're about to cry."

"Yeah." She half smiles. "I'll be...I'l be fine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: prostitution.

_Past 1950, Age 18_

  
Charles was acting skittish, biting his nails and pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. Glancing around every so often, checking for something, someone. There were dark circles under his eyes that were never there before. It was unsettling and putting Raven on edge.

She watched him as he walked over to a man that neither of them knew. Watched as Charles ran his hands through his hair and said something to him. Watched as the older of the two's face darken to something sinister. Watched as her brother followed the man across the park. It was when they walked out of the park and down the street that Raven lost sight of them. She takes a drink from her water bottle, stands up, and follows them keeping her distance.

  
"...Fuck..." A moan from a voice that Raven doesn't recognize. "You have such a pretty little mouth."

She feels like a voyeur walking into something so private, but she has to find Charles.

Martin smirks at the man before him. Scratches at his arm. 

"So do you have a place to do this Jack?"

The man, Jack, stares.

"What do you mean?"

Martin runs his fingers through his hair, laughs darkly.

"What? You don't think I didn't notice you staring at me from across the grass, did you?" He laughs again, pulls at his sleeves. "20 and I'll suck you down just right."

Jack's face darkens, contemplates for a moment, then whispers something about an alley about a half a block away and some abandoned buildings.

Martin rubs at his cheeks and scratches his arms as he follows Jack out of the park. Thinks of making small talk with the man but knows that it won't be anything of use later. The less he knows, the better he tells himself. Makes it easier.

He drops to his knees when the reach the alley way.

"Two tenners," he whispers as he places his hands on Jack's hips. "And it could be yours."

  
Raven stops dead in her tracks when the sight of a young man on his knees in front of an older man, cock in mouth, fills her vision. it takes her a moment to connect the dots, but when she does, it hits her hard.

"Ch-Charles!?" It's half gasped out, half yelled.

The older of the two men looks over to her terrified and curses. He pushes Charles off him, tucks himself into his pants, and runs out the alley way.

Charles sits on the ground dazed for a moment thinking:  _What the fuck just happened?_  Then looked over to Raven, scratches his arm, and smirks.

"100 and I'll take you to the moon."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings. Sorry this chapter is also so short.

_Present Day_

She rubs her face with both her hands, then points to a seat on the other side of the room. 

"Just sit over there-"  _Oh, hell._  She forgot all the names.  _How could I have forgotten?_

James notices her uncertainty and supplements his name, laughs light heartedly, and asks:

"Why is that whenever I come by, you forget my name and I always remember yours?"

She stares a moment at him, considering. 

"I don't know James. You just...Never mind. Just sit here and wait, yeah? I'll be back soon, I promise."

She's out the door before he has a chance to respond.

  
Raven's in Charles' room within a few minutes. Collapses against the door as soon as it's shut and lets out one shuddery breathe as her eyes fall shut.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: pain. LOTS OF PAIN.

_Past 1940, Age 8_

Charles woke with a start and a head that felt like bursting. His hands fisted into the sheets of the bed, opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. His eyes began to water and his body began to convulse.

He grabs his head, tries to hold it together because feels like it's about to rip in two.

Slow, pained, and burning.

 _This is what dying feels like. This is what dying-I'm dying. God, I'm dying. I can't be, only eight. Oh god-_

His body shakes hard and he falls off the bed. Finally he's allowed to scream. It's long and low guttural. He continues to convulse. Feels like he's swallowing his tongue.

And he can't breathe.

Can't see.

Can't hear.

Can only feel.

His blood rushing, veins constricting. Tries to cry out and feels like he's drowning on and in himself. 

Then is all stops. Like it never happened. Like he never tasted the copper of his blood, or the salty, near bitter taste of tears mixed with snot. He lays there a moment, trying to catch his breath in the silence. Tries to roll over, to get to his knees but can't; doesn't have the energy, or the strength.

In the silence, there begins a trickle. Just a trickle of words and maybe emotions and maybe memories and maybe nothing at all, but it feels like a little stream that broke through a dam.

 _-I could never-Oh, Brian more please-What was that-He's such a-Tomorrow, I must wash the-_

Just these words, with no beginnings, no endings, and his breath coming in harsh jagged bursts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings. Also, let us pretend that training at the mansion is a bit longer than it is in reality.

_Present Day_

"Professor?" A tall, lanky, dark haired boy appears in the door way. "Oh, there you are."

James looks up with a quizzical expression.

"Professor, I need to show you something. It's about Cerebro."

When James doesn't reply right away, the boy steps towards him, fixes his glasses up his nose.

"Professor?"

"It's odd of you to give a nickname to someone you don't properly know, yeah?" James chuckles. "And a bad one at that. I'm an actor, not an academic." And smiles something dazzling.

"Don't properly know?" The words sliding off his tongue slow. "I've known you for the two and a half months." Then it hits him, the sudden realization of what he was told. "Not an academic?!"

"And there you go again. I've never met you in my life." He stretches out his hand. "I'm James. You?"

The boy pales and takes a step back, finding a hold on the wall behind him.

"Hey," James stands up, walks over to the boy. "are you- Oh!" 

He manages to catch the boy before he hits the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: asylums.

_Past 1944, Age 12_

Charles finds himself wandering the halls of the east wing. Crosses paths with several of the maids, always exchanging cordial smiles but he know different. Can hear it, the voices telling him.

 _-used to be such a nice boy-crazy crazy crazy-it's always the silent type-_

Feels the  _nostalgiascorncondensing._

He stops just outside of the family room.

"-suggest he stays at St. Mary's Asylum for Estranged Children for observation, and if possible treatment."

"How long will he have to sta-Oh, Charles! Come here my boy!"

His father pats down the seat next to him. His mother tries to smile but it ends up looking like a scowl. She takes a sip from the glass she's holding.

"We have someone we'd like you to meet, Charles."

He nods, and walks forward unsteadily, watching the stranger sitting in the chair opposite that of his father. Hears:

 _-so curious, so compliant-what fun we'll have-so many possibilities-_

The idea of lab rat washes of him and he tries to suppress a shudder.

The man leans forward in and gives a wry smile.

"Hello Charles," Says it slow. "my name is Dr. Albert Ellis. You're going to be staying with me and my sta-family for a small while. Is that alright with you?"

The way he speaks makes Charles' skin crawl. He nods anyway.

  
It was in only in the car ride to St. Mary's that Charles first heard the phrases "schizophrenic" and "multiple personality disorder". He wanted to question the meaning of the words but knew that he couldn't because no one had actually spoken them.

He mulled around the words until they reached the iron gates of the asylum. Somehow, he figured the words fit, that they make sense, even if he wasn't quite sure what they mean.

  
The second time he heard those words, they spill from Dr. Ellis' mouth whilst they're in his office.

"You will be in here once a week, and in with Dr. Stuart Durham biweekly. And you will take your medication when told."

He scratches at his arm and looks through somewhat clouded eyes. He can feel the  _curiositylust_ , can feel it through his body but can't find it's source. He blinks slowly, decides it doesn't really matter.

"Do you understand?"

He nods, but all he can really think about is how he almost didn't get to say goodbye to Raven.

"Good."

He feels orderlies push him down the hall and towards his room, but there's a disconnect and it's an outer body experience. He decides that this too, doesn't really matter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings.

_Present_

She's looking around the room. Actually, more like scouring the room.

 _Where are they? Where are they? Where are they? Where is his fucking medication?!_

And it hits her. She can't find it because he doesn't have it.

 _Must have run out. Just forgot to get more. Or. Or-_

He did it on purpose. 

Her fists curl, her body shakes. That selfish pri-

"DAMN IT!" She lets out and punches the wall closes to her. "Damn it to hell and-"

"Raven?"

She turns around, seething, to see a cowering and small looking Sean. Her demeanour completely changes, all the rage and hurt tucked away and replaced with concern.

"Raven," He repeats and it barely over a whisper. "Something's wrong with the professor and...and Hank he..."

She takes a moment to collect herself then walks over to the younger boy. She wraps her arms around his shoulder and says:

"C'mon, show me where he is."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings.

_Past 1941, Age 9_

Charles doesn't sleep. Not really; maybe twenty minutes here, an hour there. 

Even if he could sleep, Charles is sure that he wouldn't. Too many voices. Too many thoughts. Like a crowded elevator that never reaches its stop.

  
He's walking out on the grounds. It's about three in the morning and he's walked far enough that he can hardly hear, can hardly  _feel_ , the voices. They're just faint, little sounds in the back of his mind. Mumbles and buzzes.

 _'Hello?'_

This voice is loud though. It's clear and defined and unlike what he's been hearing for the past year.

"Hi." Says it aloud despite himself. 

 _'My name is James. What's yours?'_

Charles stops walking, drops the stick from his hand. It lands on the round with a soft 'thunk'. 

"Where are you, James?" 

 _'I don't know. It's dark. What's your name?'_

Charles nods and takes up walking again, trailing his hands against the trees he passes.

"My name is Charles. Charles Xavier."

 _'That's an odd name.'_

Charles' face scrunches up.

"How so?"

 _'You have Charles in your name twice!'_

"I do not. It's only there once."

 _'But you said it twice...'_

Charles laughs and thinks James is quiet a peculiar boy.

"Well, it's better than not having a last name."

Distantly, he hears James snort.

 _'I do to have one. 's McAvoy.'_

Charles walks all the way to the lake and back to his room, talking to James about books and school and how Patty Thatcher won't leave him alone during recess.

And for the first time in months, Charles is able to sleep for more than just an hour.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: borderline ablest talk.

_Present_

"He's a what?" Sean's face is quirked in utter confusion.

"He's schizophrenic and suffers from MDP." Hank pushes his glasses up his nose. "Or, at least that's what I can surmise." He half smiles when he sees the confirming look in Raven's eyes. "It's characterized by multiple mannerisms, attitudes, and beliefs which are incongruous, distortion of subjectivity, severe memory loss, and depression." As an after thought he adds, "Among other things, of course."

By this time, Hank had gotten over his initial embarrassment over fainting, and he's starting to get excited the sheer possibilities of the professor. He looks around at everyone and could read the question on their face.  _Why?_  

"It's usually caused by severe childhood trauma." He pauses for a minute, thinks. "But in this case, it maybe his linked to his telepathy. Having so many thoughts in your head at once- could you imagine?" He turns to Raven. "Do you know if the alters share his-"

"Don't you think we would have noticed earlier if he was a schizo?" Alex interrupts. 

Raven sighs and shakes her head. The hurt visible on her face.

"He usually takes medication, does exercises. You know, deep breathing, focusing on constants. Anything to keep  _him._  I don't know if the others are aware of their condition; if they know they all share a body, or if their even know of each other. I think Charles might be the only one..." She bows her head and half whispers. "When he's like this, I sneak his meds into his food."

"You say 'usually' like he hasn't in awhile." Alex all but sneers.

"Yeah." Raven says, looking small. "It's been awhile I think. I don't know how long. He usually doesn't stop taking his meds. The last time he did he was nineteen and he tried to-" she stops herself. "We won't know how long he's been off the clozapine until he's back."

"Where is Charles now?" It's Erik, trying to sound cool and even, but his voice quivers and it's peculiar. Raven doesn't think she'd ever seen him this lost.

She looks to James, who, this entire time, has been sitting with his legs curled under him on the other side of the room reading  _The Old Man and the Sea_.

"He's still there, just hidden away with the rest of the alters. Something must have triggered him."

There's a quiet moment where everyone just watches James flicking from page to page, looking for any sign of Charles. It's Sean that breaks the silence.

"Just how many people live inside Professor X's head?"

  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: asylums, medication, ice baths, what vaguely constitutes as self harm, electro convulsive therapy, mentions of lobotomies.
> 
> Why yes, yes I do hit just about every trigger warning known to humankind in the fic.

_Past 1946, Age 14_

At St. Mary's the doctors give these quaint, blue pills that make Charles feel like his head is underwater and slow his movements down. The pills leave the voices in his head muddled and it's not entirely unpleasant, but Martin and James never come around to play any more. He's okay with it, he thinks, though without them he feels like a puzzle box missing pieces. 

The doctors tell him that if he ever feels his concentration breaking; that his hold is slipping, that he is to think of the constants around him and to breathe deeply.

They tell him James and Martin can't stay, can't come 'round any more, when he asks, because they aren't real. They never were and never will be.

And when that doesn't work, when the orderlies have to restrain Martin, have to bind his wrists to prevent him scratching at his arms and pulling out his hair. They give him more pills. These ones are yellow and they soften the edges of everything around him.

After days of waiting, of observation, Charles is back, saying he's going to get better, he promises he will. They unbind him and let him out with the other children. He plays chess by himself and tic-tac-toe with a young blonde girl with vibrant green eyes. They talk to each other about how they're going to get better, how they're going to leave this place, and work together making films.

It's only weeks later that the doctor realize that Charles was never really back.

 

And the orderlies take James to the tiled rooms. He sits in the corner with his knees pulled under his chin, watching as the fill the ceramic tub, with water and ice; much more ice than water.

 

Hears them tell him:

"It's alright."

"You're okay."

"Only a little bit longer, dearie."

But under the water, in the clarity of its freezing temperature, he can hear what their words really mean.  _-stupid, stupid, crazy boy-why do they always struggle-wonder if Durham is here today-_  With all the  _hatewonderlust_  behind them.

They pull him out of the ice just before he drowns. And Charles is back, finally allowed to breathe. Finally allowed to cry out.

It's later in the day when he hears Dr Ellis talk about the new treatment. Ice baths biweekly, and if that doesn't work, maybe ECT will. And images flit though his mind, like the old picture shows he used to watch with his father. 

 _Convulsing patients; eyes rolled back and foaming at the mouth._

It terrifies Charles. He grips the arms of his chair and it's all he could do to not cry out.

Near midnight, in his room with James, he cries because he also caught glimpses of the last resort. Of surgery. Of nitrous oxide and a scalpel to the front of the skull.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings.

_Present_

Charles wakes up to the sun breaking through the curtains in his room. He rubs wearily at his eyes. Pulls the covers off his body and stretches. Yawns as he gets up from the bed.

He hears the soft murmurs of voices as he nears the kitchen. Stops just a few feet before the doorway.

"-if it can be permanent?" 

"Erik, don't be ridiculous. I already called Dr Ellis. Told him about the relapse."

Charles gulps at the mention of his old psychiatrist's name. Then the words sink in.  _Relapse? No. I couldn't have. Would have-_  He thinks back to the last thing he could remember.

 _Everyone was in the dining hall. Sean had just said something. It made everyone crack up. Of course Sean would say something like that. A roll of the eyes. Of course. Look over to Erik and smile. He smiles back, all teeth and sharks and dangerous, but there's something behind those eyes. Got to ask him about that over chess and maybe some brandy later-_

"-think Charles will be in control soon?"

Raven doesn't give an answer and Charles uses the lull in conversation to his advantage by making his presences known.

"Morning to the both of you." 

He smiles and walks to the french press; sets about making coffee. He feels their stares burn into his back. Feelings of unease flow to him in waves.

 _-don't know don't know don't know-Charles James Martin Robbie Tom Johnny Joe which one are you-_

He turns to face them, hands on his hips and his head cocked to the side.

"Good morning-" Raven hesitates with the name. "Charles?"

 _-oh please let you be Charles-don't know what to do if you aren't-_

He grins widely.

"The one and only."

  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: vague mentions of an attempt at suicide.

_Past 1957, Age 19_

It's around eleven at night and they're in the study. Charles watches as Raven sleeps, breathing softly.

In, out. In, out.

He catches glimpses of her dreams.  _-Walking through a forest, following a dusty half paved road. She's smiling large and loud and happy. Everything's in vibrant technicolour-_  Feels her contentment and peace coming off. He wishes he could dream like that. He wishes he could sleep like that.

The light is dimmed and plays off her body, he notices, in a way that makes her seem almost unreal. 

 _'You know you'll never be like that.'_  

It's Martin's voice.

"Shut up." It's soft and it's weak and lacks all conviction.

 _'But you know it to be true.'_

He tries to ignore the words.

 _'You will never know a peace like that, Charles. We all know it.'_

He shuts his eyes tight. Thinks about the smell of the room. The never changing sent of musk and something he can never quite put his finger on. Concentrates on that and breathes deeply. Thinks: 

 _I will_  not  _let Martin win this._

 _'There is nothing to be won.'_  is the retort and it's said with a scoff.

"Then you should be quiet. Leave me alone." Just barely a murmur.

 _'But that's where you're wrong. I'm just telling you what you already know.'_

He shakes his 'no'.

"I need to get out of here."

He stands up, looks around, and finds a paper and pen. In his messy scrawl he writes to Raven:

Gone for a walk. See you soon.

  


-Charles

He had been walking, sometimes running, for close to an hour when he reached the edge of the lake.

In that near hour, no one had spoken to him and the thoughts mostly subsided. He took this as a blessing.

He stares out to the centre of the lake. Watches how it glistens and gleans and sparkles in the light of the moon. He sinks to the ground, feels the grass between his toes and the scratch of it on his legs. For a while, he's content to just sit in a mostly silence there.

  
Raven walks with a start and what feels like an anchor deep in her gut. She stretches and yawns; realises that she's alone in the study. She finds the note that Charles left her and runs.

  
He runs his hands through his hair and smiles crookedly.

 _I think I'm going for a swim._

He doesn't bother stripping himself of his clothes.

  
They're both gasping for air when back on the shore. Raven's crying, half asking, half shouting  _Why! Why! Why!_  and Charles is just quiet, starring out at the water, out to the middle of it all. Trying to remember how it felt, the collapse of his lungs against the force of the lake and of the freezing temperature.

Because, in there for a moment, he was completely alone. 

Because, in there for a moment, he was completely at peace.

He pulls his knees to his chest and wipes away tears. He's half hoping that Martin is listening, half hoping he isn't when he says into the open air: 

"Yeah, you were right about me." 

And Raven really doesn't know what he's talking about, but tells him he's wrong anyways and hugs him close. Tries to forget that images of him just floating and still in the water, and the feelings of dread and hurt and heartbroken being broadcast so strong that she thought  _hell, maybe, I'm the one that's going to die tonight._  She rocks them back and forth silently, her hand running soothing circles on Charles' back until one of the many gardeners finds them the next morning.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Martin is a douche.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings.

_Present_

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Charles looks at him curiously, head tilted at an angle.

"Because, my friend, some things just aren't meant for talking about."

"Well that hardly seems fair. You know everything you could possibly know about me, yet you still don't trust me enough to tell me anything about yourself. Charles, I barely know you and it kills me."

Charles eyes go soft, he licks his lips.

"You know me." And it's just above a whisper.

Erik half scowls.

"It took a relapse and a near month of you being lost within yourself for that to happen. Would you have told me, told anyone if that didn't happen?" He leans forward in his seat. "Tell me Charles, what happened in your life, what was so horrible, that you think you have to hide everything that makes you who you are?"

Charles' blue eyes are more like an ocean than Erik has seen.

"You have to understand, my friend," And there's a flickering across his face, just a small wavering. "having the ability to read, to hear, to feel what people think is a horrible gift."

Erik studies him.

"Your powers manifested through a hurt and pain that really can never be matched. And you, although at such a young age, you understood what was happening to you. You felt that click. The shift to power. You knew, as you know now, no matter what you try to deny." He pauses, eyes shut, with a pained expression. "You must know, what you went through, I would never wish that upon anyone, even on the darkest of days, but I surly wish my power manifestation was at least likened to yours in more than just pain."

He takes several deep breaths and opens his eyes. Erik closes his and catalogs everything that Charles has said. And minutes pass where the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire place and the distant sounds of Charles muttering to himself under his breath.

"What was it like Charles?"

"Hmm?" He looks to Erik with eyes on just this side of distant.

"Your manifestation."

Charles nods.

"Right. Were we talking about that? I must of...lost track of things."

"Yes. You said..." He tilts his head down. "You said you wanted yours to be more like mine..."

"Ah." His hands rub circles on his cheeks. "I awoke to mine. I was eight at the time, I believe. I, ah, it's," he half laughs. "it's sort of funny looking back on it now. I thought I was dying." He stops to see if Erik catches the joke. If he does, he doesn't make a show of it. "My mother, she was just down the hall from my room," His taking a bitter turn. "getting fucked. She didn't do anything. And she heard me, I know she did, could hear her think about it afterwords. But she didn't do a bloody thing about it. Didn't even call a sodding maid. I was-" He stops when he feels a hand wiping tears off and away from his face. He takes a deep breath and focuses on the feel of the hand. "I was alone, even with all those voices and all those thoughts. Thought myself a nutter at one point. And at another, that I was actually dead, and this was all a hell designed specifically for me. Then after about a year, James came. His voice was so clear in my head and he helped me and I didn't feel so alone and I had a friend," His voice hitches. "even if it was just in my head."

"I sense that this isn't the end of the story."

Charles half smiles and stands up.

"But it's all you're going to get for now, my friend."

And he heads for the door.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: what constitutes as self harm, general sadness.

_Past 1947, Age 13_

"Son!" Feels his father's grip tight on his shoulder. "Glad your back."

Charles nods, knowing that it was a lie, even without the telepathy he could tell. He looks to the mansion, trying to find any changes, any differences to what he considered home. There weren't any.

"Well, come on then." Feels his father pushing him towards the doors. "Jerry will get your bags. You need to say hello to your mother."

  
They're all at the dinner table. Charles looking down at his plate, moving his food around. He has no intentions of eating.

 _-why isn't he saying anything-where is my-is this over-_

"So, Charles." It's his mother's voice, he looks up. "What do you do at...Where is that you've been?"

He closes his eyes and suppresses a sigh.

"Mu-mother, I've been at St Mary's Asylum for Estranged Children." Biting out the last two word with a bitterness and hatred he didn't know he was capable of.

"Yes, yes. that's right St Mary's. And what do you do there? They treat you well?" She takes a long drink from her glass.

It takes him a moment to answer, and when he does, he lies. "Nothing. I don't do anything. Yes, well enough."

And he's back to staring down at the table.

"Why haven't you touched your food, my boy?"

"I'm not very hungry. Can I go?"

  
He's sent home a week earlier than planned because one of the maids caught him talking to himself and at scratching at his arms. 

 _Guess I won't be spending my birthday with mum and dad..._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings.
> 
> Sorry if I fucked this scene up, I only saw the movie once, and that was over a month ago.
> 
> And scheiße is fuck/shit/damn it in German.

_Present_

"I want you to shoot me."

It's not comfortable, the metal in his hand. He feels like it shouldn't belong. Doesn't know why he's doing it and he knows that Erik has a grip on the bullets, on everything, already.

"Erik, I'm not going to shoot you." His shoulders slack.

Erik frowns slightly.

"Come on. You always say that we need to train."

Charles sighs. "But not like this my friend. You already have a hold on it."

Erik shakes his head. 

"Just shoot me. There's going to be guns on that day. I need to know how fast I can deflect them."

Charles bites his lip and something changes. His eyes brighten, he's got a smirk on his face.

"C'mon. I have a different idea." He motions towards the edge of the grounds. "Go on."

As Erik's walking towards the edge of the grounds, he hears a loud pop, then a sharp pain in his shoulder.

"SCHEIßE!"

He stumbles and grips at his shoulder. He turns back to face Charles, looking at him through half clouded eyes. He's smirking still, gun angled towards the ground.  _So much for control_ , but that isn't heard.


End file.
